


Saiyuki Inktober 2017, Day 2 - “Past and Present”

by DameOfNoDelicacy



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: (sorry), And like, Angst, But mostly angst, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Mentions of verbal abuse, Missing Scene, it is not that kind of fic, mentions of bodily fluids, mentions of physical abuse, not sexy ones, nothing too graphic but still, nothing too graphic there either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 21:50:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12873744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameOfNoDelicacy/pseuds/DameOfNoDelicacy
Summary: Gojyo, in a reversal of a bizarrely familiar theme, finds himself sprawled in the mud late one night, and, as far as he can tell, without the strength to drag his sorry ass home.Lucky for him, his new roommate spends most rainy nights sleepless anyway, and sometimes takes strolls through the darkness to clear his head.





	Saiyuki Inktober 2017, Day 2 - “Past and Present”

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this little ficlet as a part of tumblr's [2017 Saiyuki Inktober challenge](https://urasaiyuki.tumblr.com/post/165322008662/saiyuki-inktober-prompt-list-ive-always-wanted). This prompt for this one was "Day 2 - Past and Present." Much like a few other Saiyuki fics I've posted here, I kinda liked how it turned out, so I figured I'd share it on AO3. If you'd like to view the original, you can find it [here](http://dameofnodelicacy.tumblr.com/search/past+and+present).
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone! Enjoy!

The guy who came up with the idea of putting one foot in front of the other must have been a stupid-ass motherfucker, Gojyo decides. He spits - or, he tries to, anyway - and a glob of foul-looking, brownish-reddish goop shoots sideways out of his mouth and dribbles down his chin before it drops to the ground, mixing with the gloomy, gloopy, late-night, rain-soaked mud. “Shoulda known,” he slurs aloud, to no one in particular. “Shitty trajectory, am I right?”

He is right, as it happens. Gojyo’s swelling face is pressed firmly against the loose-packed dirt of the path that leads away from the bad part of town, where he’d spent the past several hours gambling with the local gents and admiring the local ladies - and, his squirming stomach reminds him, knocking back the local spirits at a borderline breakneck rate. He’d lost the last round of seven-card stud, and neither he nor his woefully empty pockets had particularly felt like paying up. And so, he’d slapped the most charming smile he could manage onto his villainous visage, and he’d tried to sweet-talk his way out of his unfortunate circumstances.

It had been a pretty effective tactic, all things considered.

One of the guys at the bar had shrugged, and had asked Gojyo if he’d be willing to offer something else as payment. That had made Gojyo a little nervous, as was to be expected; but thanks to years of ingrained street-smarts, he’d managed to check himself before reflexively drawing his arms behind his back to cover his ass with his grubby hands. The guy had laughed, big and loud - he must have seen how shit-scared Gojyo was of the mere idea of someone making him pay up in that particular fashion - and he’d shaken his shaggy head, saying “Ain’t nothin’ much, Gojyo-san. I’ve just been wantin’ to punch that pretty face of yours for a long damn time.”

He must have blacked out at some point. Maybe it was the drinks, or maybe it was the pain, or maybe it was a finicky combination of the two. Heck, maybe it even had something to do with the wild, distant laughter bouncing around inside his thick, half-youkai skull -  _“I can’t stand to look at you,”_ came an all-too-familiar voice, hysterical and high-pitched, between blows, between the bouts of laughter -  _“I can’t - I CAN’T!” -_  an all-too-familiar series of punches to the gut and slaps upside the head had followed - if he’s honest, he wasn’t even sure who was hitting him anymore. It could have been the guys at the bar, beating the crap out of him for always being down on his luck financially but inexplicably up on his luck romantically -  _“How the fuck does a guy like you bag all those chicks, huh?”_ he distinctly remembers one leery voice sneering.  _“A dirtbag like you? I can’t believe it, man!”_  - or it could have been a woman who had been cold and dead for years and years, who never thought twice about raising her clawed hands to a little kid -  _“I can’t stand to look at you,”_ said the woman -  _“I can’t fuckin’ believe it, man!”_ said the guy - someone slugged him in the kidney, and he went down,  _hard,_ knees first -  _“I can’t stand it!”_ \- he felt like he was on some kind of fucked-up merry-go-round, his world was spinning so gods-damned fast -  _“I can’t believe it!”- “I can’t STAND it!” - “I can’t” - “I can’t” - “I CAN’T” - “I CAN’T - !”_

And then, somehow, he’d made it outside.

He’d found himself staggering, stumbling, stupid, towards home, in the bleak, black rain.

Of course, he remembers thinking. On a night like tonight, of course it was raining.

So, Gojyo had done the only thing he could do: he’d focused on putting one foot in front of the other, and steering his sorry ass towards home. Trouble was, when you were drunk off your face and reeling from just having been treated like a half-human punching bag, putting one foot in front of the other was a pretty harebrained thing to try and do.

As Gojyo quickly discovered.

His ankles got all twisted up beneath him somehow, and he’d ended up facedown in the slop of the road, frustrated, fatigued, and feeling more than a little bit like the entire contents of his stomach was about to come spewing out through his big mouth. “S’not even how people  _walk,_ ” Gojyo had moaned weakly as he felt his body thud to the ground, for what wasn’t even the first time that night. “Feet go more side-by-side than that, gods  _damn_ it… stupid fuckin’ guidelines, not helpful at  _all…”_

The worst part is, he isn’t even that far away from home. All he has to do is haul his wretched, wrecked self up from the ground and traipse the half a mile to his battered door.  There’s a cold shower waiting for him behind that door, and a soft bed. There’s a fresh pack of cigarettes somewhere, one that hasn’t been soaked through by the rain. In the morning, there’ll be cheap whiskey and hot coffee (in that order) to take the edge off. Gojyo knows all of these things. And, if he’s honest, Gojyo  _wants_ all of these things, too.

But, just a little bit more, he wants to close his eyes.

And so, he does.

The next thing he knows, someone’s nudging him, and they won’t stop. He feels hands shaking his shoulders and grasping at his upper arms. He starts awake, and by reflex, he seizes up, clenching his fists and tightening his abs, readying his body for another beating -  _“Cut it out,”_  he tries to scream, but the words gets stuck in his scratchy throat -

“Gojyo,” says a voice.

Gojyo hesitates.

He knows that voice.

He’s sure he does.

But - but  _how_  - and  _why_ -

“Please,” the voice continues, “stay still, if you can manage it. You’ll hurt yourself even more if you thrash around like that.”

“…Hakkai?”

“Yes.”

“How - h-how the  _fuck_ did you - ”

“It’s four in the morning, and you hadn’t returned. I was curious.”

“Been out that late before, y’know.”

“Yes.” Even through his stupor, Gojyo can hear Hakkai hesitate. “The rain,” he says, finally. His voice has gone high and tight. “I couldn’t sleep. I took a walk. I found you here.”

“Mm,” is how Gojyo replies to that. In part, it’s because he doesn’t want to press the matter any further, and in part, it’s because that’s all he has the energy to say.

“We need to get you home,” comes Hakkai’s voice again. “I won’t ask what happened now, but you’re in terrible shape.” He pauses. “How do you feel?” he asks.

Gojyo laughs, a weary, broken sound. “How d’ya think I feel?!” he answers gleefully. “I feel like shit!”

“Do you think you can walk?”

“Do  _you_  think I can walk?”

“I don’t know, Gojyo. That’s why I asked.”

Gojyo laughs again. He shoves himself up onto one shoulder, leaning clumsily sideways so that he can look his roommate in the face - but a wave of nausea sweeps over him, and he hangs his head again. “I dunno, man,” he answers honestly. “I could try, but it’ll be one hell of a long shot. I kinda get the feeling that I’d take two steps, and the next thing we’d know, my guts would end up all over the road.”

At that, Hakkai goes strangely silent.

“What?” Gojyo says, lifting his head again, deciding that the roiling in his stomach might be briefly worth enduring. “What’d I say?”

Abruptly, Hakkai shakes his head. “Nothing,” he replies. “Nothing at all.”

“I said something, didn’t I?”

“No.”

“Look, you - you don’t have to haul my ass back, man - it ain’t your job or nothin’ - ”

“If your guts do end up all over the road,” Hakkai says, his voice clipped and quick, “let’s call it returning the favor, shall we?’

At that, Gojyo stops.

“Oh,” he says.

He really can be an idiot sometimes.

“Shit,” Gojyo mumbles. “I’m sorry, Hakkai. That - that wasn’t a guilt-trip thing, I swear - ”

“If it was, you’d be perfectly entitled, you know.”

“I - yeah,  _maybe,_ but - “

“Gojyo - I was only - “

“That’s not my style, man - I didn’t mean to - ”

“ _Hush_ , Gojyo. I believe you.” Hakkai’s face softens, just a little - not enough that Gojyo feels completely comfortable, but a little - and he nods his acceptance.  _Oh,_ Gojyo realizes, belatedly.  _That ‘entitled’ thing was his version of a joke._ “It’s all right,” Hakkai says gently. “I understand that that isn’t what you meant.”

“Shit,” Gojyo says again, gritting his teeth and forcing the words out. “Shit, Hakkai - I’m  _sorry - ”_

“I just told you, Gojyo - it’s all right - ”

But Gojyo shakes his head. “Not for that,” he says, and he hears the resignation that tinges his voice as he speaks.

“Oh?”

Gojyo cringes.

“For this.”

And with that, Gojyo promptly empties his stomach onto the road, right in front of the man whose life he never really meant to save - the man who became the roommate he never really planned to have. Still, Gojyo can’t help but feel a little thankful. What are the odds, after all, that he’d end up sharing his digs with just the kind of guy who takes weird, late-night walks at desperate times like these?

When it’s over, and when Gojyo can think straight again, he recognizes the feeling of firm, strong hands on his back. For the first time in a long, long while, he doesn’t get all tense when he senses the touch. He cracks his eyes open and glances up, and he sees Hakkai, silhouetted and pale, gazing almost sympathetically down at his fallen companion. “Thank you,” Gojyo says, softly.

“It’s my pleasure.”

“Heh. Doubt it.”

“Well,” Hakkai replies, “perhaps I’m using the word ‘pleasure’ a bit generously in this instance. Still,” he says, laying one slender hand upon his own stomach, “I won’t pretend I don’t have a debt to pay.”

“Forget it, man.”

“Gojyo - ”

“I mean it,” Gojyo says, giving Hakkai what he hopes is a fierce and determined stare - though, he recognizes that his odds are slim, given what he looks like at the moment. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“But - ”

“Just shut up and accept the fact that I’m grateful to you for this, would ya?” Gojyo snickers. “Talk about going above and beyond the call of duty. For real, man.”

“Gojyo, I really can’t - ”

“Look,” Gojyo says, figuring he’ll give this just one last try before he throws in the towel altogether. “I get that you feel indebted to me. Fine. That ain’t gonna go away any time soon, and I get that. But listen - we live in the here and now, don’t we, Hakkai?” Weirdly, it’s important to him that Hakkai actually answers this question. He waits, and when Hakkai says nothing, he repeats himself. “Don’t we?”

Hakkai nods, somber and steady.

“Yeah,” Gojyo says, finally, finally satisfied. “We do. So let it go, okay?” And he gives Hakkai one last, lopsided smile before he lets his face fall back into the mud. “What’s past is past,” he concludes proudly, “and you just watched me puke.”


End file.
